The reckoning of poor discipleship.

When I’ve said the same something in conversation with multiple people multiple times over multiple months, it’s usually time to talk about it in a more public forum. It’s not my lane of expertise and I’m still a Church girl for life. But after thirty years as a church member and twelve as a staff wife, and after the experiencing 2020 with the rest of you, I think I’ll honor the Bride of Christ more with my words than with my silence.  I believe we are seeing the 1990’s model of the seeker-sensitive megachurch collapse beneath its own weight, without the foundation of the gospel to hold it up.

There was richness there, where I met Jesus. I’m forever grateful for my parents and the body of believers who introduced me to the lifesaving good news of the gospel. But there were large gaps, too. I learned to invite friends on Sunday, not to read my Bible on the days between services. I learned to consume church programming, not to sit in contemplation or suffering. I learned one way to vote, not the many roles the Church has/should play in hot button issues. I learned salvation, not sanctification.

I came of age as large churches began to de-program their robust schedules, opting instead to encourage its members into small groups that met in homes throughout the week. Even still, I don’t look back and see discipleship as a focus. The model was based primarily on discussing Sunday’s sermon or a Sunday school-style lesson, as well as finding friendship inside the megachurch. We’d share a meal, watch a video, and then superficially discuss until it was time to leave. It also added another event to an already-full calendar, only to be spent in insulated community with other believers, not in missional relationship with neighbors and coworkers.

This feel-good, numbers-focused model raised an entire generation, myself included, to grow an inch deep and a mile wide. I remember party after party, event after event, worship service after worship service. But I don’t remember any one-on-one meetings or small groups that taught the basic spiritual disciplines of following Jesus. I remember being told that if I lay down with dogs, I’d get up with fleas, and that I should be careful with the friends I chose. I don’t remember any lessons on missional living. I don’t remember any lessons on how to be in the world and not of it. I loved church growing up, but for the most part… we showed up, checked the Jesus box, and went about our lives.

Even as I entered adulthood and married and started a family, I found it difficult to resist the allure of a church that boasted how many baptisms they’d performed on Sunday but never invited people to learn the discipline of prayer and fasting on Monday. Thanks to be God, I eventually saw the light, and we have since been a part of very different church families that focus on spiritual formation and teach both discipleship and its cost.

To this day, I still prefer a large sanctuary with hundreds of people and loud music and yes, even a light show! Currently, we work for a church that offers none of these things. What is it that keeps me committed to the local Church, you ask? The message preached from the pulpit, the same one lived out during the week by the people who call it theirs. The Body of Christ who has counted the cost of following Jesus and still chooses it anyway. The impact witnessed and felt and experienced by the surrounding community, as a result of authentic and sacrificial mission. We’ve served at several churches over the last decade and the ones who embodied these elements have truly felt like home. I’m so grateful.

But at the risk of overgeneralizing, an entire generation of kids who said yes to Jesus at summer camp and reached for purity rings after burning their secular cd’s is now grown and in crisis. We’re working, marrying, and raising families in a pandemic.

We can’t get our weekly worship fix or even find our footing. We’re floundering. It’s no wonder we’re falling for conspiracy theories and resorting to sinful self-preservation at a time like this.

We are an entire generation of Christians taught to see God as copilot, only to realize we were never flying the plane to begin with.

And we never really took the time to get to know the real pilot. As the world spirals out of control, we’re missing the tools needed to navigate life in a faith-filled and healthy way.

I don’t believe a single person or theological idea or denomination is to blame. I think we were deceived, not unlike Eve in Genesis 3. I think we got off track subtly over the course of decades. I think we mistook influence for power. I think we twisted the Great Commission into a numbers game, like any good business would. But we aren’t a business. We are the Body of Christ. And I pray that the reckoning of our severe lack of discipleship leads the Church to a place of repentance and revival like the world has never seen.